The Urban Orchardist

Here are some photos of my attempts to “put up” some alcohol.
-Wine. The grapes were picked last fall, in Redwood Valley in Mendocino County. My friend Jennifer arranged the picking–we were allowed to glean from Coturri vineyards in exchange for 5 gallons of biodiesel. After stomping the grapes with our feet and decanting the liquid, they’ve been bubbling away in carboys for the past 8 months. On July 4, we racked it. Unfortunately, it’s quite sweet and kind of horrible tasting. The year before we used Merlot grapes, and the wine was actually very drinkable. This season it was sangiovese. My solution? Sangria baby. It makes a great fruity chilled wine. Since I have 25 bottles, I’ll probably use the rest for cooking, vinegar, and maybe some mulled wine in the winter months.

-Bitters. Here’s a photo of nocino-making. It’s just green walnuts, some cinnamon sticks, honey (in my case, some use sugar or maple syrup) and a jar of vodka. It won’t be ready until the winter months, either.
-Mead. In the next few days I’m going over to my friend John White’s house to rack up the mead (honey beer) we made almost a year ago.
Looks like I’ll be set in the liquor department.

Oh man, I miss the ducks and the geese. They really made the garden feel alive. Now it’s just one of my crazy black chickens and a bee hive. The survivor duck is doing pretty well for having a chunk of his butt removed. I’m getting all James Herriot with him–cleaning the wound, hand-feeding him food and water. The good thing is he’s eating corn and lettuce. He’s hanging with the rabbits, which he bites at if they get too close. He’s rightfully mad at mammals, me included.

BTW, yesterday I kind of binged. I met a friend for lunch and ate mussels, clams, and scallops. Later coffee with a different friend. Then Pakastani food at Shalimar in SF. Lordy. Today I’m back to eating from the garden: cuc, beet, and onion salad (but today, with the exotic spice called pepper) and a plate of pasta with tomatoes, garlic, and basil from the garden with some duck.

Hey, email me anytime: novellacarpenter (at) yahoo.com

Only two hours left for my “epic”, month-long experiment in surviving on food grown and raised only on my mini-farm in urban Oakland. My BF and I went to Berkeley Bowl and I bought a few items in anticipation of tomorrow, when I can eat some store bought crap. Here’s what I got:
-whole milk
-half and half
-durum spaghetti
-bag of corn chips
I got sort of spaced out at Berkeley Bowl–so many dizzying options. But I rejected most of them. I went to buy walnuts, and I remembered, like a girl recalling her first lover, the farmer who sells walnuts on Fridays. Same with the butter. It’s great to know I don’t ‘need’ to buy anything.
My mom wanted to know if I felt more healthy after doing this. I have to say yes. Being off coffee for a month is good no matter what. Sorry if this is TMI but I didn’t have cramps this month at all. I’ve decided to only drink coffee as a treat. For my morning bev, it’s lapsong souchong all the way! Also, I lost a bit of fat on my arms and hips, so I’m feeling kinda buff. I can’t wait, though, to have enough to eat so I can take long bike rides without starting to fade.
Tomorrow I’m meeting an editor for lunch. That word, lunch, is just luscious.
Okay, I’m babbling. Starting the next post, it’s back to photos of the farm animals, and less about me. Whew! Thanks for joining me–and rabbit rabbit!

P.S. I have a story in today’s salon.com: http://www.salon.com/mwt/food/eat_drink/2007/08/01/black_panthers/
I guess I made one mistake: the Alice Water’s Edible Schoolyard is at MLK elementary, not Malcolm X. Sorry, I went on a tour of Malcolm X elementary’s schoolyard a few years ago, so I thought that was the garden. It is a nice space with a cob tool shed and lovely veggies.

I walked out the door today, headed for work, with a large bag, filled with food, of course. I had some roasted beets with basil and mint and sliced Armenian cucs. A rabbit soup with kale and onions. A jar of honey. Three sprigs of mint (for tea for later). A large apple. A jug of sangria for a post-work barbeque (my homemade wine is really sweet–sangria and mulled are probably the only way I’m going to drink it). It’s both a liberating feeling–I haven’t spent money on food in one month, I know the food I’m eating is safe and healthy, I grew it myself! And it’s a little claustrophobic at the same time–hmm, before I leave for any destination, I have to think about where I’ll get my next meal. When I’m driving truck, I’ll bring a jar of honey, for example: that’s my energy drink. I plan to keep the good and discard the bad when July ends.

Sad news. I went out to feed the ducks and they were all but one killed. Even the majestic geese. One had its head tucked under its wing, like it was sleeping when it happened. I’m not sure what ‘it’ was, but all the ducks had a bite taken out of their rumps, but that was it. They may have had heart attacks when they saw whatever it was bearing down on them. Our neighbors said in the early morning they saw some dogs running away from the direction of the garden.
So what do you do when life gives you two dead geese and five dead ducks?
Make duck confit and rillettes, of course.
I’ve spent the WHOLE day processing these fuckers. First I hung them in the bathroom, cut off their heads, and bled them (they were freshly killed). Then I plucked and cleaned each one. It takes about 45 for each bird. I salted them, to get out the blood, then got cooking. According to the River Cottage Meat Cookbook, you make confit by salting the legs (I did 6) with bay leaves, thyme, pepper for 48 hours. You need a shit-ton of duck fat to cover the legs, so in the oven, I have the three ducks roasting off their fat. Every 20 minutes, I go in and pour off the clear liquid fat. As for the geese and rest of the ducks, I’m going to make rilettes after I’ve eaten the confit (you can re-use the fat) so they’re in the freezer.
In a way, the predators just forced my hand: I’ve always wanted to make confit and have a preposterous amount of duck fat on hand.
I’m spending the rest of the day reading the paper, and snacking on roast duck.

Just had a lovely breakfast of green tea with mint and honey, zucchini pancakes (shredded zuc, an egg, nigella seeds, and coriander), drizzled with a tart apricot jam and thin slices of duck proscuitto. Yup, the proscuitto’s done! It was an 9 day process. First I killed the duck. Then boned the breast meat with the fat. Salted for 24 hours, then left to hang in a humid, dark, 50 degree spot (we have a little unplugged frig that I kept cool with ice). The meat firmed up after 8 days, and now it’s a nice little meaty snack. I don’t think everyone would like it–it’s very ducky. Of course it isn’t as good as the duck proscuitto I had in France, but it’s close.
Now for a confession: I ate out at a restaurant yesterday. One of my business partners and I met with a group of community activists at a local restaurant. The group choose this spot–BB’s restaurant on Sacramento in South Berkeley–because it would mean we were supporting a family-operated business. How I could I say, “Er, I’m on this weird diet so I can’t actually eat here.” That would have been so rude. So there I went: fish burger and a cup of tea. Was it good? I was so distracted by the conversation I didn’t get to enjoy it. It was a tough decsion, but I think I made the right choice. Sorry if I let you down. It was a good lesson that food isn’t always eaten for pleasure or necessity, that we are social animals, who use food to cue alliances, build trust, and community.